


Making Amends

by Winter_of_our_Discontent



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Cultural Differences, Hobbit Culture, M/M, Multi, Possible Dub-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 04:21:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winter_of_our_Discontent/pseuds/Winter_of_our_Discontent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hobbits place great value on social harmony. In fact, they've developed some... unique... cultural practices to help everyone get along.</p><p>Of course, no one told Thorin Oakenshield that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Amends

They’d gotten off on the wrong foot.

From Thorin thinking he looked like a grocer to Bilbo getting a bit defensive and… well, faint-y, they’d neither of them managed to get a good impression of the other. And a few days into the quest had done nothing to improve things. For all he’d been doing his best (and he’d already had to tighten his belt. Twice!) Thorin seemed to veer between passively ignoring him and actively disdaining him. Not that Thorin was generally a pleasant sort; Bilbo wasn’t sure if it was a dwarvish thing, a kingish thing, or a dwarvish-kingish thing that he always seemed to be five minutes away from knocking off someone’s head with his sword. Usually Bilbo’s.

Alright, it was likely not a dwarvish thing, as Bilbo seemed to get along well enough with the rest of the group, and some, like Kili and Fili, were friendly, playful sorts who would have found themselves welcome at any party in the Shire. Which meant it was either a kingish thing (Bilbo having no experience with kings to compare it to) or a dwarvish-kingish thing (Bilbo having even less experience there). 

But that was all beside the point. They’d gotten off on the wrong foot, and Bilbo was a gracious enough gentlehobbit to admit the fault was at least partially his. And since it was clear Thorin was uninterested in doing anything about it, it fell to Bilbo to do his best to apologise and try to make things between them more pleasant. Bilbo was, after all, a Baggins of Bag End, and a grandson of the Took, and his poor departed mother wouldn’t have been able to rest easy if he’d forgotten his manners. So he’d just have to make as gracious amends as he could manage to King Grumpybeard, and it would be the dwarf’s fault if they remained on poor terms afterwards. 

It was bad enough he was likely to be drowned, stabbed, or immolated; he didn’t think he deserved to be _glowered_ at the whole quest too.

***

“Erm, Thorin? Might I have a word?” 

Thorin looked up from his seat near Balin and Dwalin to see the hobbit looking even more fidgety than usual.

“In private?” the hobbit added, hands clasped behind his back.

Thorin gave a brief nod of acquiescence. He had no idea what the hobbit could want, but best get it over with quickly. Maybe he’d finally seen sense and was heading back to the safety of his Shire.

The halfling led him behind some boulders that were near enough to shout for help in an emergency but that kept them out of direct line of sight of the rest of the company. “Look, I know we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. But we’re in this together, I’ve signed the contract, et cetera, so if I may… I’d like to offer you a formal apology for my behaviour and to offer amends.”

Usually he found the halfling’s manners fussy, but that was… well done. Almost dwarven. “Well then. Accepted.”

“And the amends. Do you accept them?”

“It’s unnecessary,” Thorin said, determined to be gracious. 

Now the halfling looked annoyed. “Oh of all the ungrateful… will you let me properly apologise or not?”

“If it means that much to you…”

“It does, thank you very much. It may not mean much to dwarrow… or… or kings, but hobbits take their manners quite seriously.”

“Fine,” Thorin said. 

“Fine!” Bilbo agreed.

“Well, get on with it.” Whatever it was.

“Right then. Right. Fine.” And the hobbit, who had been inching steadily closer over the course of the conversation, moved to stand in front of Thorin. And then dropped to his knees.

And apparently the halfling did have some skills in burglary, because Thorin had scarcely had time to react before he’d stolen past breeches and smallclothes and there was a mouth, warm and wet, wrapped around his...

Oh _Mahal..._

There were moments in battle devoid of conscious thought, when there was only the rush in your ears and the blood in your heart. Dwarrow wrote songs about it. Thorin knew this.

There was another kind of mindlessness dwarrow celebrate, that of the smith. When there was only the work in your eyes and the sureness in your hands. Thorin knew this too, he may have worked as a smith out of need but that didn’t preclude there being joy found in the forging.

This, though, this was new, and he knew no words in Khuzdul or Westron to do it justice. This was an agile and clever little tongue exploring his shaft, this was a hot and welcoming mouth, this was hands reaching to cup his… Thorin’s eyes closed involuntarily as he discovered halflings -- or at least, this particular halfling -- did not possess a gag reflex. He forced his eyes open again to look down at the mass of light brown curls currently at waist height before giving in and shutting them again. It took enough willpower to keep his hands tightly fisted at his sides; he’d none to spare for other tasks.

A thundering in his ears was the only warning before he abruptly spent himself.

“Well, then,” Bilbo said, wiping the corner of his mouth on the back of his hand as he stood up. Thorin had a sudden vision of some of the possible reasons hobbit culture was so obsessive about their pocket handkerchiefs. His mouth felt dry.

“I hope we can… Thorin?”

Thorin said nothing, having found himself unequal to speech.

“Of all the… is there even a word for ‘apologise’ in your language?” Bilbo asked, sputtering a bit. “Well let me tell you something, Thorin Oakenshield, however rude you may choose to be, my manners are equal to any in the Shire.”

How the halfling could somehow manage to look collected for the duration of… _that_ … but be immediately adorably flustered by a few moment’s talking at Thorin was a mystery for another time. 

This lead to thinking about what exactly it would take to make the hobbit look flustered under _other_ circumstances, which was a vein of thoughts he’d no interest in mining. “I accept your apology,” he said gruffly, wanting nothing more than a swift end to this entire meeting.

And just like that, the hobbit’s anger was gone. Dwarrow could hold a grudge for generations, tempering it like a fine blade all the while, but the anger of a hobbit seemed to be that of a summer storm, loud but passing. “Yes, well. We’ll say no more about it, then.”

“Agreed.”

Only, of course, that wasn’t the end of it.

***

Bilbo had thought… well, hoped, rather, that things might improve between himself and their handsome yet humourless leader. He’d offered amends, they’d been accepted, but apparently even a bit of Smoking-the-pipe couldn’t entirely sort things. He’d never understand dwarrow. Why, his father had offered amends to his mother over some little thing or other soon after they’d met, and they’d begun courting before five months had passed.

Well, to be fair, things with Thorin were at least _differently_ awkward now. 

As if on cue, Bilbo could feel the hair on the back of his ankles standing up again. He looked around to find Thorin Oakenshield glaring at him. Again. Of course, as soon as he’d been spotted he looked away. Again. 

Honestly, if this was a dwarf’s idea of stealth then Bilbo, for all his lack of experience at being a burglar, could hardly do worse. And it was an improvement over being ignored. Probably.

Thorin had even called him by his actual name once or twice. The first time Bilbo had heard it he’d almost fallen off his pony in shock, and wouldn’t _that_ have impressed him.

They finally stopped for the night. Bilbo welcomed a chance to stretch his legs and sit on things that weren’t moving. He was still generally sore from the transition between occasional walks around the Shire to days spent on ponyback across rough terrain.

Preoccupied with forcing his legs to move properly, he almost tripped over Bofur, who had already settled down for the evening. “Oh, I’m terribly…”

“Not a problem, laddie…” Bofur said, kind dwarf that he was.

“Oh goodness, I’ve gone and…” Bilbo said, seeing he’d also caused Bofur’s drink to spill all over his front. He pulled out his borrowed handkerchief and began dabbing at Bofur’s shirt. “I really am quite so…”

Bofur pushed him gently but firmly away, his eyes fixed on something behind Bilbo. “It’s fine, laddie. No apologies necessary. Really. At all. Of any sort. Truly. I’ll just… be leavin’ you to it.” And then Bofur made his way hastily over to Bombur, who’d begun fixing dinner.

As if on cue, Bilbo felt his ankle hair stand on end. “Hello, Thorin,” he said, and turned to find His Oakenshieldiness behind him. “Might I have a word?” Without looking to see if he was being followed, he headed to the other side of a copse of trees. 

“Thorin, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but whatever you’re up to… just… don’t. Alright? I’d hoped we could… but clearly I’ve just made it worse. Regrettably. But your glaring and… what was that with Bofur just then? He practically ran away from me. It’s not on.”

“You’re right,” Thorin said.

“And another thing…” Bilbo said, before his brain caught up with his ears. “Wait, I am? I mean, yes, of course I am. Obviously.”

They stared at each other.

“Bilbo Baggins of the Shire,” Thorin said formally, dropping down to his knees, “you must allow me to apologise and offer amends.”

***

Things did, in fact, improve after that.

**Author's Note:**

> First work in the fandom; this plotbunny bit my ankle and wouldn't let go.
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta reluctantabandon.
> 
> (The dub-con is at Thorin's end, Bilbo is choosing to follow cultural traditions in offering an apology, but while he gets consent (by Hobbit standards) to give a blowjob to Thorin, Thorin doesn't know what he's consented to.)


End file.
